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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244939">We’ve Been Here Before</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/void2void/pseuds/void2void'>void2void</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guilt, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Drug Use, Minor Suicidal Thoughts, Other, Other legends are mentioned, Regret, Second Person, kind of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:48:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/void2void/pseuds/void2void</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The clock ticks internally. She doesn’t use her syringe, she doesn’t even try. He can’t think straight. Time runs out, and he knows she let him win. This isn’t the first time. They’ve been here before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lifeline | Ajay Che &amp; Octane | Octavio Silva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We’ve Been Here Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Octavio finally processes the guilt that he wasn’t even aware he carried.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Catch me if you can!” The teasing voice calls. There’s only two of them left in the match, one on each team, and they’re blessed with a generous amount of land left. It’s probably the quickest match they’ll ever experience, time wise.</p><p>The junkie runs, and he isn’t even aware of who he’s running from, but decides it doesn’t matter. A stim is stabbed into his side, naturally. He knows better not to turn around now, not until he’s reached enough high ground to shoot back. He’s learned his lesson more than once, mostly with Bangalore.</p><p>He draws his weapon, and jumps onto an arch of some sort. Trusty R-99, he’d probably say. Never’s failed him before. He finally turns around, eyes darting toward his opponent. Green locks with hazel. His teeth could’ve torn through his lip if he bit any harder. He had no idea — doesn’t even want to comprehend it.</p><p>For a moment, he doesn’t want to shoot. Removes his stim, shaking his head. Octavio aims, and starts unloading the bullets. His opponent dodges them and manages to hide. Silva’s already frustrated. He wants to inject himself again, but decides against it.</p><p>He restlessly shakes his legs out and looks away. He’s already distracted. He yelps, feeling a bullet graze his skin. Now he’s furious. Eyes shoot back up, and she’s staring. Her scope’s aimed at his head, and he curses under his breath, as if he was worried she’d hear him. From his view, she misses the shot on purpose.</p><p>Still, she hesitates to take the next shot. He wants to take the mask off, wants to scream. He isn’t even sure why he isn’t fighting, either. He feels defeated in a way, a feeling he’s not familiar with. Time becomes frozen, and he feels uncomfortably ill.</p><p>He remembers a more peaceful time. They’d always be together, doing anything. Before his addiction. Before she sought something, anything other than Octavio. But it’s not peaceful anymore, that’s something they’re both aware of. She’s moved on from that conversation, he’s sure of it. But he hasn’t. He still thinks about it. Half plays the victim, half doesn’t. He doesn’t even want to think about it, and instead, is quick to snap out of it.</p><p>He re-enters reality, and watches her body shift. He gives her a look, and even with a mask for cover, knows she can see his face. She takes another shot, and still misses. It gives him enough time to recompose, and he does.</p><p>He takes his own shots, with a Wingman this time. Another regret. Octavio doesn’t miss, and he doesn’t, not usually, but he wished he did. She’s knocked. If he wins, he doesn’t want to celebrate this one. He sees the gold shield, and he would be seething, but it’s all too difficult to process. For once, he’s still. He glares through his goggles, and shakes his head again.</p><p>The clock ticks internally. She doesn’t use her syringe, she doesn’t even try. He can’t think straight. Time runs out, and he knows she let him win. This isn’t the first time. They’ve been here before.</p><p>They don’t talk about it when they get back to the ship. He can’t even look at her. She’s off to MedBay, and he’s being flooded with congratulations. He refuses to get his wounds patched, per usual, and returns to his private quarters.</p><p>The goggles are first to be removed, sweat and tears soaked into his skin. Mutters a few, harsh words, and feels himself sinking. He avoids looking in the mirror, and takes off his mask. He throws them both at the glass, angrily. He’s being selfish. He knows if he had lost, she’d be the first to check on him. He wishes he was like her. Wishes he shared her empathy.</p><p>He wonders why she still sticks around. Even when he’s being ignorant (which is almost always) — most especially when he makes everything about him. He sits, removing his prosthetics.</p><p>He just wants to sleep. Doesn’t know for how long, but for a while. Should take a shower, he thinks. Change out of his gear. He doesn’t want to do any of it.</p><p>He squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering. He’s so frustrated, so upset. Mainly at himself. He doesn’t want to be on the ship. Doesn’t want to be surrounded by other legends, all clearly better than him. Maybe not Caustic or Revenant, at least not morally — But they’re stronger. Doesn’t want to go home though. Home just reminds him of her. He doesn’t want to have to deal with his parents, either. He almost gags at the thought.</p><p>Octavio isn’t sure of where he wants to go, just knows he wants to sleep. His tears free-fall, and he finds himself looking in the same mirror he swore he could avoid. He looks tired. Blood is smeared under his nose, but he can’t remember getting a nosebleed. He was probably much too distracted by bloodbaths and adrenaline rushes to notice, or he did realize in the moment, but brushed it off.</p><p>His eyes are dull. He knows he should stop, but he can’t. He picks at every detail until his head is full. Finally decides it’s time to sleep. Still doesn’t shower or change, and just lays on his bed. It’s soft; comforting, almost. He doesn’t even bother giving himself a blanket. He rests his head on a pillow, and shuts his eyes.</p><p>He’s still upset. He’s aware, too aware, there’s nothing he can say to her right now. Can’t bring up how she sabotaged her own victory. He was open, she had him. She’d deny it. Contemplates, only for a moment, completely cutting his stim supply off so the withdraw could kill him. She’d just hate him, more than she probably already does.</p><p>Then he wonders why she did it. Thinks it could be to prove her loyalty to him, but that sounds stupid. There was also the possibility of her actually missing the shot, but he didn’t want to believe that. He even gave her the opportunity to use her syringe. Maybe she thought he wouldn’t offer the chance.</p><p>Whatever it was, it ate at him for the night. Took hours for him to fall asleep, and it wasn’t a good rest. He tosses all night, and feels it in the morning. He’s gone without sleep before. Usually, it doesn’t bother him — but this is different. He’s staring at the ceiling, until he hears the door unlock. He huffs, annoyed, remembering he gave two people a keycard.</p><p>Elliott was one, usually just to deliver free bottles of liquor after victories. He was never up this early though, so it had to be the other. His eyes lazily trailed to his visitor, and green once again met with hazel.</p><p>“Silva.” She spoke stern, but there was a lace of worry. He doesn’t want to do this. He knows he can’t pretend to be asleep anymore, and can’t escape this. He looks away again, hands resting on his bare belly. She’ll scold him for not changing later. “Che.” He offers back, not hiding the irritation. He knows she’s rolling her eyes, he doesn’t even have to look. She says nothing, and invites herself in. He doesn’t stop her.</p><p>It takes a moment, but he manages to sit up. She’s not even looking at him. Her attention is focused on the pictures he has posted on his bulletin. There’s one of him with Navi, the cutest on the board. Then there’s his daredevil debut, his personal favorite. The rest are pictures of them, older and newer. They’re both smiling, at least in most. She chuckles and hums, and finally turns toward him. “Congrats on ‘ya win.” She finally speaks, and he wants to be angry, but knows he can’t be.</p><p>“Why?” He whispers, and her grin doesn’t fade. He notices, just doesn’t understand. She inches towards his bed, and crosses her arms. Her hair is down, he finally realizes. She looks comfortable. She looks content. “Couldn’t sleep last night?” She raises a brow, disregarding the other question. She had a way of ignoring him.</p><p>He shakes his head, and she sits. She starts reaching for his prosthetics, just a harmless task she was used to providing, but he finally stops her. “Ajay.” He demands. He rarely says her first name. She can finally tell he’s being serious.</p><p>She shakes her head, unknowing. His brows tighten, and he bounces in his spot. “Tú haces todo por mi..” He mumbles, and she tries taking his hand, but he rejects her. “Damn, Che! Why did you let me win?!” He’s shouting, and she flinches in response. His hands are tightly gripping the sheets underneath him.</p><p>She gives him a minute, and he’s slightly calmer. “Is that what ‘ya think happened? ‘S that why ‘ya didn’t come see me?” He stares at her, blankly. “I know it’s what happened.” He corrects her, and she looks at him like he’s speaking a foreign tongue.</p><p>“Silva. Don’ tell me ‘ya actually believe what’cha sayin’.” She looks concerned, and he starts trembling. “No, no, no.. You can’t do that.” He immediately argues, and he tries to get up. He forgets he’s without his prosthetics, and hisses when he almost topples off the bed. She catches him, but he swats her away. “You missed your shots, on purpose! You had me, and you didn’t shoot!” He argues.</p><p>She purses her lips, staying silent. “When you were down.. I saw that shield. You could’ve used your syringe, I would’ve let you!” He’s on the edge, tears lined in his eyes. Still, she says nothing, and finally manages to grab hold of one of his hands.</p><p>“Silva.. ‘Ya had me with the ninety-nine. I wasn’t even carryin’ gold.” She explains, and he’s rapidly shaking his head. “No.. No.” He tries to argue more, but his head is spinning. “I was there too, chica.” The tears fall again, and he’s choking on words.</p><p>“Y’ just stood there after ‘ya won. You was starin’ at the spot.” He doesn’t want to believe it, but he knows. She’d never lie to him. Part of it starts to make sense. He snaps into a realization. He felt genuine guilt for the things he’d never processed before. Memories of his past actions flooded his brain, and he either hallucinated the rest, or was snapped into a terrifyingly realistic daydream.</p><p>In the moment, the victory reminded him of all the times he’d manipulated her with thinking he was in the right. That damn conversation they had, the one where she blocked him. It didn’t even last long. It was just always a ‘did what had to be done’ type of situation with him. It carried on into the night, and through the morning. At least now, it made sense. It was all in his head.</p><p>“I’m..” He tries to muster the right words to say, for an apology that wouldn’t do any good. Octavio finally becomes aware of how awful of a person he is to her. “I don’t know why you stick around.” He was upset with himself. He furrows his brows, and she still doesn’t completely understand, but she tries to.</p><p>“‘Yknow, ‘ya a real pain, Silva.” She starts, and he doesn’t laugh like he usually would. He listens, for once, and she grins. “But I wouldn’t stick around if I didn’t care.” He wants to look away, but feels trapped. He’s sick of guilt tripping her, tricking her. He regrets all of it. He’s still crying.</p><p>“I love ya, Tav.” She scoots closer, wiping his tears away, even when they soak her fingers. Her hands are so soft, he thinks. He doesn’t deserve it. “I know.. I love you too.” He responds, and it’s silent after that.</p><p>She lays him down gently, climbing into the spot next to him. She holds holds him, and allows him to cry as much as he wants. It’s peaceful again, even if only for a moment. They’ve been here before.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope this made sense to readers! I’m not too confident in my work, but this was kinda therapeutic to write, and I wanted to share it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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